


'N Ffurfiol Briodas

by Elucreh



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elucreh/pseuds/Elucreh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, Minerva is old-fashioned, her fiancée is indulgent, Severus Snape is reluctant, and Remus Lupin had intended to have fun</p>
            </blockquote>





	'N Ffurfiol Briodas

**Author's Note:**

> Reversathon, 2007: The lovely Gilda Glinte provided the prompt: _Sometimes, the person who ends up being there for you is the last person you'd expect support from; Ron/Luna, Remus/Severus, Severus/Minerva._ Further prodding added: job interview, kiwis. Her own ad mentioned that she liked mythology. How, exactly, these things resulted in this fic I'm still not entirely clear. However, I find I quite like it, and I hope very much that she will too. Happy Reversathon, dear Gilda.

**Excerpt, _Diverse Unions: Marriage and Betrothal Customs of Wizarding Britain_**

The 'N Ffurfiol Briodas is a Welsh betrothal and marriage practice of great historical importance, little practiced to its full extent in the present day, although many modern rituals contain elements of or can trace their roots to this involved tradition of negotiation, competition, and compromise. When carried out in its entirety, the 'N Ffurfiol Briodas requires at least two months to complete, from the first offer extended to the bride's guardians to the ceremonial first reception of visitors in the new home.

Like all traditions, the 'N Ffurfiol Briodas has evolved over time to fulfill society's ever-changing needs. Roles are now fulfilled by request, rather than by formula—the bride may be represented by a friend or godchild, rather than a parent; the gwahoddwr ("bidder") be chosen for his relationship with the couple rather than his ability to perform bawdy rhyming couplets. Likewise, the gifts to the new pair may consist of artwork or books in place of house elf, china, linens, expert spellwork to ward the new house, and other requirements of "setting up housekeeping."

The ritual contains several roles to be filled by family and friends of both the bride and the groom; the first of whom to come into play are the "parent" of the bride and the llais, a representative of the groom or his family.

*********************************

July 10, 2005

Minerva felt her face crease with concern when Severus seemed to narrowly avoid swallowing his own tongue along with his tea. His usual impassivity had given way to the pokerface she was all too familiar with when she had given him her news, and she waited anxiously to see what he would look like when he'd stopped choking.

"Minerva, you cannot possibly mean—"The blankness was still there, she realized, but it seemed to have grown brittle; more fragile, more set.

"I can, and I do," she said, briskly. "Shortbread?"

"Surely there is someone better suited—"

"Severus." Minerva waited patiently until he grudgingly lifted his gaze to hers. "Albus would have been the most suitable—"

He flinched, and she sighed inwardly.

"And as you are the nearest thing he had to a son, and I hold you in high regard myself, I cannot imagine anyone I would rather have act as my guardian for the duration of this change in my life."

His expression soured, but they had been friends long enough that she could tell Severus knew he was beaten. "I should be honored."

"Good. Have a biscuit, if you don't want any shortbread?"

"No, thank you. Surely you don't mean to go through the entire rigamarole?"

Minerva frowned. "My mother was married in the 'N Ffurfiol Briodas; as was her mother before her, and her mother—"

"_Her_ mother had a wand containing a dodo's tailfeather, no doubt. Surely you can move with the times a _little_."

"This is important to me, Severus," she said, gently, laying a hand on his wrist.

"Oh, very well," he grumbled, picking up his cup again to sip at the now-cold brew.

"Thank you. Turlough's llais will call on you later this week. Do try the shortbread, Severus, it's really quite good."

*****************

**Excerpt, _Diverse Unions: Marriage and Betrothal Customs of Wizarding Britain_**

The ritual begins when the llais requests and receives a meeting with the bride's guardian, during which he or she will open negotiations for the joining of the two families. Historically, this first meeting (the flaen ergyd) was a time for the representatives of both sides to laud their object while claiming humility on the part of their own candidates, a position never reverted to once the eventual result of negotiations had been agreed upon. Today, this is generally an informal meal; most parties are aware, going in, of the general purpose of the meeting, and an actual statement of intent is unnecessary, although ritual phrases are still recited in many cases.   
  
************

Remus Lupin frowned into his brandy and soda. Left to his own devices, he would have chosen to meet in a home, or at least a reasonable restaurant. The initial meeting of a two-month ritual, he felt, deserved better than a mixed drink at a bar, no matter how plainly respectable. However, his own polite request had been returned with a straightforward, "Branstone's, Tuesday, eight o'clock" scrawled across the back of it, and he was, after all, the supplicant tonight.

He didn't like going in so completely unprepared, either. Turlough either didn't know the identity of Minerva's guardian, or hadn't bothered to enlighten him, and this inauspicious meeting place boded ill. He would be spending a great deal of time with this person over the course of the next two months, and it would be awkward to playact the old tradition with someone who wasn't prepared to have fun with it.

"Lupin," sneered a voice beside him, and he stilled, glancing up to find his worst fear confirmed.

"Severus." Of all the luck—of all the bars! He forced his face away from an instinctive curl of the lip. "Fancy meeting you here."

The taller man looked down at him a moment, and he met the cold black gaze steadily, trying to keep his own temper.

Severus seemed almost to hesitate before saying softly, "I mewn 'r enwa chan 'm ferch , Anercha 'ch. I mewn 'r enwa chan 'ch chyfaill , Ca 'ch i mewn anrhydedda. I mewn 'r enwa chan 'n hwy ddedwyddwch , Archa a pawb da chynhysgaeth ddilyn 'n yn cwrdd."

Remus cursed the day his father had asked Turlough Tofty to act as his godfather. "Are you serious?"

"Would I be reciting formulaic Welsh to a werewolf in a bar were I not, Lupin?"

"You _agreed_ to act as Minerva's guardian?"

"Under great duress, and against my better judgment, which would have been even better than that had I realized you had any connection to Turlough Tofty, however remote. But by the time I discovered this, there was no help for it. Unless, of course, _you_\--"

"No. No. If you are Minerva's choice…"

"You are not the only one disturbed by this discovery, I assure you."

Remus felt his expression sour a little, despite his own best efforts. _It wasn't his fault, Lupin. Go on, get past it. He certainly has_. "Well, then." He took a breath and let it out slowly. "A 'm chyfaill Mai bod 'n ddedwydd , Chyfarfydda chennych. A 'ch ferch Mai ca 'i 'n arobryn , Cardota 'ch breintia. A 'n hwy bucheddau bod asethedig , Mai dynghedu ad."

Severus nodded sharply and seated himself, peering dubiously at the glass in Remus's hand. "Are you honestly drinking brandy and soda? How very Wodehouse. Eleanor Branstone has many fine brews of her own, there's no need for that sort of thing."

"Another student recommendation, Severus?" Remus asked, rather more nastily than he had intended.

Severus froze. Remus couldn't quite bring himself to offer a look of apology. Finally, the other man huffed out a breath. "Branstone was indeed a student of mine. Her later training was from Slughorn, of course, but I was honored to receive an invitation to her opening and impressed by her ability to implement his instructions without allowing him to suppress her natural gift." He turned to the bartender. "House ale, if you will."

"Certainly, sir."

"I believe, Lupin," Severus began, "that this is the bit where you tell me that Minerva is a lovely and beautiful woman, wise and honorable, and that no man is worthy of her, but your—friend? (really? The man is ancient)—would nevertheless like to have a go at her."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to tell _me_ that my _godfather_ is a skilled and handsome warrior, intelligent, brave, and resourceful, and any woman would be honored to be chosen by him, but nevertheless you feel that Minerva may just aspire to it if he deems her worthy?"

"Turlough Tofty spent the war in a small office writing recommendations for schoolchildren, Lupin. Certainly I allow him the brains portion, and admittedly Minerva must have seen something in him, as I taught her to test for befuddling drafts myself, but you will have to allow me to revise the traditional praises."

"Turlough is one hundred and fifteen years old, Severus."

"If you would like me to replace brave warrior with breathing centarian, do let me know."

Mentally, Remus counted to ten. In Aramaic.

"I'm sure they're equally worthy of one another, Severus."

"I shall do my best to share your optimism."

"Does that count as agreeing they can go gathering nuts in May?"

"It's probably the closest we will get."

"Very well. Chan hon amrantun llwybreiddia , brifion fel hun."

The tall man blinked at him, taking the bottle the bartender offered him automatically. He frowned a little as he replied, "Chan hon amrantun llwybreiddia , Mai 'n hwy goal bod fel hun."

Remus set his empty glass on the bar counter. "Good evening, Severus."

Severus stiffened. "Good evening, Lupin." 1

****************************

**Excerpt, _Diverse Unions: Marriage and Betrothal Customs of Wizarding Britain_**

In ancient times, the flaen ergyd was followed by meetings between the prospective bride and groom, in the company of their family and friends; these ranged from taking tea and paying calls through formal dances and town picnics. It was—not illogically—considered good luck for a couple if their acquaintances could gather socially and enjoy themselves together.  
  
*******************************

_ Banner Headlines, Daily Prophet: _

September 29, 1998  
**AUROR N. TONKS KILLED IN SKIRMISH: DUMBLEDORE'S MURDERER STRIKES AGAIN  
Friends, family shocked, grieved**

October 31, 1999  
**DARK LORD DEFEATED, DEATH EATERS IN CUSTODY  
Country wide celebrations; prominent Order members refuse comment  
**

January 12, 2000  
**SEVERUS SNAPE ACQUITTED OF WAR CRIMES  
Dumbledore's secret testimony revealed in court!  
**

March 3, 2000  
**DRACO MALFOY RELEASED FROM AZKABAN  
Snape's testimony key to Malfoy's defense**

 

May 27, 2000  
**RON WEASLEY FOUND MURDERED IN FRONT PARLOR  
Eyewitnesses accuse Draco Malfoy**  
  
******************************

"I am indeed a cruel and opportunistic woman, Severus," Minerva said agreeably, frowning at the collar of his dress robes. She reached up and tugged.

He blinked down at her, and grumbled, "Shameless, as well."

"That, too." She smiled at him brilliantly and stepped back. "But it will do you good. You _are_ a hero, Severus, whether you're going to recognize it or not."

"And whether other people do? Don't think they won't sometimes miss and stain _your_ robes with tomatoes."

She lifted a wry eyebrow. "My robes are red." In response his sardonic look, she sighed. "I wish you would have more faith in people, Severus. Just because you can't forgive yourself doesn't mean they haven't forgiven you."

"Oh, no? Your precious—" he broke off.

Minerva frowned. That would explain rather a lot, actually. She was just opening her mouth to ask when there came a knock at the door. "Come in."

Luna Weasley poked her quicksilver head round the door. "Almost ready, little maiden? Hallo, Professor Snape. It's nice to see you again."

"Mrs. Weasley."

"Don't forget to put that sprig of myrliton in your hair, Minerva, it will repel all the demarithoids."

Minerva watched in the mirror as Severus raised an eyebrow at her matron of honor. "Demarithoids, Mrs. Weasley?"

"They're known to feed on unconsummated love."

Obediently fastening the little twig of square leaves to her bun, she watched in amusement as Severus struggled to find something to say to that, and visibly gave up.

"Shall we go? I would hate to keep Turlough and his company waiting."

She smiled, ignoring his tone, and took his arm. Courteously, he extended his other arm to Luna. "Mrs. Weasley, will you join us?"

Luna smiled impishly. "I should be delighted." She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to his cheek before wrapping her hand around his wrist. He was still blinking when Minerva Apparated them all.

******************

Remus watched Minerva's party approaching, Minerva on Severus's arm and—was that Luna Weasley on the other? It must be—he'd never known anyone else to string kiwis for a necklace.

Minerva greeted her fiancé warmly and moved to change from Severus's arm to Turlough's, frowning at her friend when he appeared to miss the fact that she wanted to let go. He immediately released her, to Remus's amusement.

Turlough smiled as he introduced each member of his party. "And my dear godson Remus is acting as my llais, Minerva."

"I didn't know you were Turlough's godson, Remus," she exclaimed. "At least I no longer have to wonder at your decline to act as a member of my party."

"I would indeed have been honored, Minerva," he assured her, shooting a puzzled glance at Severus. The other man returned his gaze unflinchingly, though he noticed that Severus had pressed Luna's hand a little more tightly to his side.

Minerva began to introduce her own friends and family. Remus smiled at Harry, Hermione and Susan Granger-Bones, and Emmaline Vance, and paid close attention to the names of those he did not know. "And this is Luna Weasley, who will be acting as my matron of honor, and Severus Snape, my guardian."

"Delighted to meet you, my dears," Turlough said, offering his hand first to Luna, who offered one limply in return and smiled brightly, and then to Severus, who eyed him with distaste as he shook.

Introductions over, the group began to dissipate as they spotted acquaintances in the crowd. Harry promised to speak to Remus later, saying that he was going to look for Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Severus offered to assist him, announcing that the head Auror had asked to speak to him about developing a new defensive potion. He himself drew Luna aside, asking her about access to the archives of the _Quibbler_ to help him with the book he was writing.

It was a lovely party, as it always was, and Remus let many of his former students and colleagues tease him onto the dance floor. He was glad to pass the time among his friends, and disappointed when the music hushed for the speeches. He drew Hermione's hand through his arm when their dance ended and led her to a table where many of their friends were waiting. They sat through the Minister's pompous speech, and the grateful one of the president of the League for War Victims, before applauding enthusiastically for Harry as he mounted the platform.

"Er. I want to thank all of you for coming tonight. I think, really, that the most important thing we can do now is remember why we fought the war, and help those who suffered for it. This ball, and the donations contributed all year long, are an important part of that." Remus glanced over at Hermione, amused to see her mouthing the words along with Harry…she must have helped him with his speech again. "But not all of those who sacrificed and were sacrificed in the war can be helped this way, no matter how generous we are with our time or our money. I am always so glad to hear that the LWV has raised funds, that they've been able to rehabilitate someone who lost the ability to walk or see, that they've found a foster family for someone orphaned by the war, that a park or a museum destroyed by battle has been restored to a place for people to learn and bond. But it is not enough merely to contribute our galleons and our hours. We must also remember to support those of us who lost someone in the war. We must remember to resist the urge for revenge, for hatred. We must fight against bitterness and bigotry, we must prevent such a war from ever occurring again." He cleared his throat. "It is our custom, at this time, to read out the names of those we lost in the war, and hold a minute of silence to remember them and invite them to remain with us, despite the veil between.

"Cedric Diggory…"

The long, long list marched on and Remus listened, as he always did, the sense of loss and sorrow growing with each name.

"…Nymphadora Tonks…"

He closed his eyes for a moment against the grief, the knowledge that all that bright affection, that courage and kindness and hope and trust, were gone from the world forever.

Harry paused to swallow. "Ronald Weasley." He pressed his lips tightly together for a moment. "May they find happiness wherever they are, and may we never forget them. Please join me in one minute of silence for the lost."

The warm, slow seconds ticked by, and Remus let his head drop to his clasped hands and his mind swirl with grief: he saw Cedric Diggory in his sixth-year Defense class, glowing as his shield charm deflected even Remus's curses; Sirius's affectionate face as he watched Harry playing chess at Grimmauld Place; Ron agonized but defiant between Sirius Black and his best friend, and later red-faced and happy with Luna as they left on their honeymoon; Dumbledore's kind, knowing eyes; Tonks laughing, Tonks lying asleep on his shoulder.

"…Thank you," Harry said softy, wiping tears away. "I am sure that wherever they are, they know we remember them." He left the podium to polite applause, and Remus swept hastily at his own eyes, glancing up and around him. Hermione was leaning back against Susan's shoulder, Susan's hand in her hair. Across the room, Harry had gone to speak softly with Minerva and Turlough, who seemed to be telling him how well he'd done. At the next table—

At the next table—

At the next table, Luna Weasley was sobbing openly, carefully cradled against none other than Severus Snape, who was rocking her softly as tears seeped from beneath his eyelashes. Remus felt his jaw drop slightly. Before he could turn away, Severus opened his eyes and looked straight into Remus's.

The werewolf expected the shields to flicker up against his gaze, but instead Severus flinched, grief and remorse tangled in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, brokenly, to whom it was not entirely clear. He pushed Luna gently away from him and stood up, drawing his wand. "I'm sorry," he said again, this time looking directly into Remus's startled face, and Disapparated.

Remus sat in disbelief for a few moments before his native empathy kicked in, sending him over to pull Luna against his own chest. She clung to him, her sobs subsiding, as Harry and Minerva walked over to them, Turlough trailing behind.

"Sssshh, Luna, it's all right," Harry said softly, drawing her away from Remus. "I know. I know."

Luna flung her arms around him. "Ron—"

"I know. I know, Luna. I miss him too." Harry kissed the side of her head.

"What happened to Severus?" Turlough asked softly.

"I don't know," Remus said helplessly. "He just—he said, 'I'm sorry,' and left."

Minerva sighed heavily and wrapped her arm around her fiancé, pressing her face to his shoulder. "I shouldn't have made him come. I thought, if he could see we don't—but he just told me someone had been…unkind about this. The poor man."

Remus felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.

"It isn't fair," Luna murmured, sniffling. Harry handed her a handkerchief. "It wasn't his fault. He shouldn't blame himself."

******************************

**Excerpt, _Diverse Unions: Marriage and Betrothal Customs of Wizarding Britain_**

After a suitable period, the groom and his most immediate circle (generally a family circle and the llais, sometimes including one or two business associates and/or a mentor) are invited to a gathering with the bride's guardians. They are asked a series of questions (sometimes formulaic) and required to give truthful answers. Generally, liquor is involved.   
A little later, the process is reversed, the friends and family of the bride interrogated by the representatives of the groom. Again, drunken revelry is customarily a prominent feature of the interview process.

******************************

"Over my dead body."

"But Severus—"

"_No_, Minerva. A man's home is his castle, Tofty has a terrible palate, and as though you would listen if I told you his answers weren't good enough. I repeat, _no_."

***********************************

Remus pressed a hand to his mouth to help ease the laughter brought on by Filius Flitwick's description of Minerva's tendency to leave mice at one's door after a night of hunting. He turned to the next question on his list gleefully, his question almost lost in the slowly quieting chuckles of the raucous crowd. "What would you say is Minerva's worst quality?" He looked up into Severus's eyes, and froze.

"I think," Snape drawled, bitter tension laced through his tone, "that her faith in people is probably her biggest failing."

The tense silence stretched as the crowd tried to calculate an appropriate response.

*********************

**Excerpt, _Diverse Unions: Marriage and Betrothal Customs of Wizarding Britain_**

Both parties being fully satisfied, the two families fete the couple with a large party, during which the groom will present the bride with a "lovespoon"—in ancient times, a literal spoon, though now more likely to be an item of jewelry carved with protective runes. In either case, it is traditional for the token to have been carved by the groom himself. The bride in turn will present him with an item of clothing similarly decorated by her own hands. This exchange marks the official engagement of the couple, placing them beyond the reach of other single persons and (in the days of chaperonage) allowing them to be alone together for brief periods of time.   
  
*****************************************

Remus had an uneasy feeling when he arrived at Grimmauld Place, which Harry had offered to them for the engagement party. Not about the house—he had made his peace with that long ago. Nor even about the party—Fleur Weasley, bless her, had commandeered all the arrangements once she understood the general idea. It would be elegant and effortless…on his part, at least; and if a small part of him longed for one of Molly's homier potlucks, it wasn't fair to go on comparing the new matriarch of the clan to the old one.

Fair. Therein lay the difficulty.

Remus sighed and pushed open the door. "Hello?"

"Remus! You are 'ere!" cried Fleur from the direction of the big ballroom. "Will you be so kind as to 'elp wiz ze food?"

"Happy to help!" He shouted back. "Kitchen?"

"Yes, zank you!"

In the kitchen, a straight, black back was chopping something rhythmically, a full bottle of cooking brandy beside his elbow. Remus cringed. "Severus. What can I do to help?"

"This is nearly finished. If you would be so good as to levitate the dishes on the counter into the ballroom, I think that would be the best utilization of your so-called skills in the kitchen."

Clapping a lid on his temper, he merely nodded and began to set up a series of charms to guide the bowls and platters to the ballroom, where Fleur directed each one to its perfect place on the long tables. Just as they settled the last punch bowl, with its fragile crystal cups full of dark, sweet liquids, the doorbell rang.

The bell and guests kept both Remus and Fleur busy for the rest of the night; keeping an eye on the refreshment levels and spills, conversing with their friends, watching to see that Minerva and Turlough were not too crowded. Remus found, to his relief, that there was very little time to consider his attitude toward Severus Snape, and the man himself kept well out of sight, despite the fact that he was also supposed to be serving as a host that evening.

He finally made an appearance when Remus called the guests together for the official exchange of tokens on a low platform, standing as required at the foot of the staircase behind Minerva. Remus took up his own place on the opposite side.

Turlough bowed low and offered an open velvet box, in which lay a lovely wooden necklace, each bead carved with a rune for love, luck, or fortune. Minerva lifted it out, awe on her face as she threaded it through her fingers, admiring the detail. Turlough smiled softly and took it from her, reaching behind her to fasten the catch. She put her hands up between them and rested one on the necklace, while the other pulled him to her for a long, loving kiss.

They parted softly, smiling at each other, and she pulled a long embroidered cord from her pocket. Turlough said something too quiet for the crowds surrounding them to hear, and she grinned and untied the belt of his robe, looping the new cord around his waist and knotting it. He grinned back at her and bent to whisper in her ear, making her giggle like a schoolgirl.

Remus smiled fondly at the happy couple, glancing across at Severus to see just how disgusted a face the dour man could make.

Severus looked worse than Remus had ever seen him. The pain in his haggard expression was so clear that Remus felt as though he could see the other man's soul being scraped raw.

The officially engaged couple turned so that they were facing the couple slightly, and recited together, "Ach at bod chloddia , a Fi eiddo rannwn 'n hiraetha a 'n fenwyd , 'n bucheddau a 'n anwyliannau." 2

They kissed again as the crowd cheered, and Severus turned abruptly and swept off through the crowds toward the kitchen hallway. Without bothering to think, Remus followed him.

Opening the kitchen door, he was greeted by the sight of Severus Snape gulping down the last of a large bottle of brandy as though it was water and he had been lost in a desert for several days.

"…Severus?" he asked hesitantly.

"What is it, Lupin?"

"Can I…is there anything I can do for you?"

"Love potions are illegal, Lupin, and anyway I wouldn't trust you to brew one. Just—just go away and let me get drunk in peace."

"I think you're already drunk," Remus said dryly, reaching over and removing the bottle from the large, clutching hand.

"Then go and let me sleep my way to a nice peaceful hangover that keeps me from wanting to kill myself."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "I very much doubt that Fleur will appreciate having to work around your snoring corpse as she puts away the leftovers, and she _did_ take most of the work for this party out of our hands. The least I can do is keep you from cluttering up the kitchen."

"Fine. Fine. I'll go." Severus stumbled to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall as he made his way over to the fireplace. He fumbled for the Floo pot.

"No, no!" Remus snatched the powder away. "You'll wind up in Tibet."

"You said you wanted me to go, Lupin."

Remus sighed. "Come along." He threw a pinch of powder into the fireplace and stepped in, hauling Snape in by his wrist. Impatiently, he arranged the other man so that no corners were sticking out, and said in a loud, clear voice, "Home of Severus Snape."

When they stepped out of the fireplace, Snape was looking extremely green.

"Need the loo?"

"Certainly not." The potions master collapsed onto the sofa and waved a hand at him. "You can go away now."

Remus pursed his lips. "Can I?"

"Yes. Floo powder on the mantle."

"I don't—"

"Or the Disapparition wards are down."

"Severus, I can't leave you here if you're going to kill yourself."

Snape groaned and threw a hand over his eyes. "I'm not going to kill myself, damn you. Just because I'm a filthy traitor and murderer and the only woman worthy of respect who's ever trusted me is madly in love with a balding, liverspotted centarian and asked me to _give her away_, why should I kill myself?"

Remus had no idea what to say, but he felt that his silence must be giving him away somehow. "Severus…"

"And don't bother. You're the only sane person in the world. You know it was my fault too."

"Severus, I know you weren't—"

"Go away, Lupin. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

Snape turned his back on him and curled against the back of the sofa.

"Very well." Remus drew his wand and Disapparated.

************************************

**Excerpt, _Diverse Unions: Marriage and Betrothal Customs of Wizarding Britain_ **

On the Friday before the wedding, the Ystafell, or household goods, are brought home. The representatives of bride and groom spend the day in the couple's future home, receiving and arranging gifts in the house. Traditionally, the bride provided a bed, blankets, and an oaken chest, probably an heirloom in her family; the bridegroom sent a table and a dresser. Whatever was necessary for house-keeping came in, some of the goods being supplied by the parents of the young people, and others by relatives and friends. Today, many of the traditional gifts are irrelevant or already owned by the couple; however, it is still customary for the arrival of the Ystafell to be arranged for the Friday before the ceremony and to be guarded by the wedding party.   
  
*******************************

Of all the people he might have been stuck on shift with, of course it was Severus Snape. He might have spent two hours very pleasantly playing with the Bones-Granger baby or discussing her fantastic creatures with Luna, but it seemed he was doomed in a great many respects.

He hadn't seen Severus since the night of the engagement party, and he was wary of the other man's mood. But Snape greeted him cheerfully enough—which was to say, he didn't say anything that was _actually_ insulting—and they talked stiffly of the weather, the wedding, and mutual acquaintances until the first gift arrived.

As the day wore on, it was easier to speak freely. The arguments over where to put each gift grew friendlier; the conversation between came more freely. The tension finally broke when Alastor Moody's gift arrived, carried by four pelicans: an enormous painting enchanted to show who your worst enemies were and what they wanted to do to you. Not even Severus could hold in the hearty guffaw that the sight of a tiny twelve-year-old shoving red-inked quills into Minerva's mouth inspired.

When the next shift arrived, Luna surprised him by rising up on her toes and kissing Severus on the cheek. The great black bat suffered it with surprising grace, Remus thought, and realized that he'd thought it with the same affection that had tempered his thoughts when they'd worked together at Hogwarts. He shook the hand of Turlough's former business partner and followed the other man into the Floo, grateful to have had a good day.

 

*******************************

**Excerpt, _Diverse Unions: Marriage and Betrothal Customs of Wizarding Britain_**

Although so much of the 'N Ffurfiol Briodas is ancient tradition, it has surprisingly little to do with the wedding ceremony itself, being more concerned with preparation and celebration than the binding together of lives. A couple may choose a religious or civil ceremony, or even have a friend officiate.   
  
*******************************

"Who presents this woman?" demanded the registrar, and Severus cleared his throat. "I do, your honor."

"And who presents this man?"

Remus answered him.

Their part done, the two of them stepped to the side, to wait behind the other attendants. As the ceremony progressed, Remus's mind wandered, and he found himself watching Severus rather than the happy couple. The other man seemed composed; his gaze even occasionally flickered from the bride's glowing face to the crowd. Perhaps this final step was helping him to accept this new state of things.

Severus's idle glance fell on him, and Remus smiled softly. Snape looked startled for a moment, but then he smiled back.

"I now pronounce you…" and it was done, and the two of them waited to follow the officiator down the aisle, easily following into step.

******************************

 

**Excerpt, _Diverse Unions: Marriage and Betrothal Customs of Wizarding Britain_**

Something the 'N Ffurfiol Briodas has in common with nearly every wedding custom in the world is a celebration replete with dancing, feasting, and drinking. The bride and groom dance with as many people as they can, and there is cake and wine to be shared by all. At the end of the night, the new couple mount an animal (a griffin is considered to be good luck) and depart on a honeymoon.   
  
****************************

"Dance, Severus?" Remus yelled above the crowd, and grinned when shock spread over his friend's face. Without waiting for a reply, he dragged the other man into the laughing crowd that was performing a sloppy reel, lines and circles and turns crooked and sideways as joy and wine spread through the systems of the guests. Apparently, Snape had enjoyed enough of the brandy himself, because it took him no time at all to throw his lanky form into the dance, bony fingers grasping Remus's firmly as they spun about the floor. They parted to form a ring with the other members of their set, and came together again whirling. The music ended in a grand flourish of laughter.

A great cry went up from the crowd, "The bride! The groom! The honeymoon!" and the two of them pushed their way through the crowd as first Minerva's bouquet and then her garter flew through over their heads. The happy couple climbed onto the great bronze beast that Hagrid held ready for them, and Minerva laughed and clung to her husband's waist as he urged the great griffin into the sky.

"Good luck!" "Good fortune go with yer!" "Be happy!" "We love you!" "Don't forget to check the bed!" The guests called out advice and good wishes as they flew away, but gradually lost interest and returned to the party.

Only the two of them were left on the porch, Severus staring after Minerva, and Remus watching Severus. Finally, Snape sighed and turned away, meeting Remus's eyes.

"She was too old for you, anyway," Remus offered, teasing a little.

Severus's lips twisted in a wry smile.

Remus stepped closer, resting his hand on Severus's elbow, and felt the other man take in a quick breath.

"I don't suppose you have any interest in a night with someone more your own age?" he asked, hardly daring to look up into the black gaze.

A spark lit behind Severus's eyes.

***************************

 

**Excerpt, _Diverse Unions: Marriage and Betrothal Customs of Wizarding Britain_**

One of the peculiarities of the 'N Ffurfiol Briodas is the notion that it is supposedly the best of luck for a couple to get together only after the newlyweds have departed on their honeymoon. The roots of this belief are lost in history, but statisticians report a surprising accuracy in the superstition.   


**Author's Note:**

> 1The traditional exchange at the flaen ergyd was roughly translated from:   
> In the name of my daughter, I greet you. In the name of your friend, I receive you in honor. In the name of their happiness, I ask that all good fortune attend our meeting.  
>  That my friend may be happy, I meet with you. That your daughter may find him worthy, I beg your favor. That their lives be joined, may fate allow.  
> From this moment forward, may they grow to be one.   
> From this moment forward, may their goals be as one.
> 
> 2 The vow exchanged by the bride and groom during the engagement party was roughly translated from:   
> You are to be mine, and I yours; we will share our sorrow and our joy, our lives and our loves.


End file.
